


R . A . N

by SepiaWhiskey



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alpha Erik Killmonger, Based on Song, Before Erik Joined The Military, Black Character(s), Braids, Budding Love, Character(s) of Color, Erik Killmonger-centric, F/M, Female Character of Color, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Abuse, No Sex, No Smut, Pre-Black Panther (2018), Protective Erik Killmonger, Protectiveness, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Songfic, Triggers, reader is poc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 08:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SepiaWhiskey/pseuds/SepiaWhiskey
Summary: Erik Stevens is a close friend of yours who lives in the same apartment building. You have problems with your "boyfriend" and frankly, Erik is fed up with it.[ This is Killmonger before he was completely Killmonger. ]





	R . A . N

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever heard R.A.N by Miguel? Great song. That inspired a lot of this fic.

**Reid Apartments**

**Friday - 10:30PM**

 

You know what he’s gonna say and damn it if you’re not in the mood for his shit.

 

You had enough of your own and didn’t need the third degree. Erik Stevens was a friend and confidante in this neighborhood, but that didn’t mean you wanted his opinion on every damn thing – even when you both knew he was right and you lowkey likely needed to hear it as often as he spit it. Moving quickly on your bare feet, you try your hardest to move as quickly as you can, hiding behind a small hallway in the complex. You can hear _him_ coming – hunting for you like a wolf to a wounded hare. Through his intoxication and subsequent anger, his breathing is harsh and bitter. Why the hell had you ever fucked with an asshole like this? You knew why, but in the long run of things this couldn’t last. It was the one thing you never verbalized but everyone had a sure feeling about. The abuse. It wasn’t every night, and it wasn’t even that brutal – if you could put a gauge on abuse.

 

And while his anger was a recurring aspect of his person as a whole, it intensified for the worse when he drank. So, you were standing out here, looking like an idiot in your nightgown, your braids in a loose bun from immediately running, unable to properly tie your scarf. You reach up, letting them fall against your back before pulling them into a tighter, lower bun that softly bops against your nape. When you hear him cross down the stairs, calling for your name harshly, you take the risk. You jet back out in the open, and run down the hall, eyes scanning desperately. Your relief begins to unpack when you see that life saving **7A** on the door, knocking lightly.

 

“Erik,” you plead gently, looking over your shoulder. You were certain you would receive an accidental punch to the face if you tried to jiggle his doorknob and continue to knock, trying to keep it low as not to bring Andrew back up the stairs to catch you.

 

Each time you hear _him_ take steps, you jump, hands trembling more so and your knocks gradually getting louder before you openly bang, muttering with an inconsistent plea, “Erik, please wake up...!”

 

Like a violent godsend, the door moves in and a hand reaches out, grabbing you as gently as it can muster by the forearm. You lurch in, not of your own accord, and gasp. The door closes behind you and it’s not long before you are eclipsed in a poorly dimmed room, the only level of light coming from the television in the main room playing _Martin_ lowly. You don’t quite realize that Erik has pulled you into his chest until…well, you do. He stands in a deathly stillness in an undershirt and checkered pajama pants, an arm set protectively placed around your back, looking out menacingly through the peep hole. You look at the bottom of the door, the light of the halls creating a stripe of white under the door. 

 

You look up at Erik. He removes his hand from the door, pressing his index against his lips, never looking down at you. All you do is nod. Quietly, the both of you listen as Andrew makes his way back upstairs, likely realizing that there was no way you would have been able to run out of the entire building without someone noticing. You are the only one of the two of you to jump when Andrew lets out a bitter shout of frustration, slamming a fist into the walls. The hit is close, and you know as well as Erik that Andrew knew where you ran when things got rough.

 

“I don’t want to hear it tonight, Erik.” You say, a level of exhaustion lining your words, “Don’t need you telling me shit I already know.”

 

“You’re the one who ran up in my place,” he growls lowly, cutting you a look, sending his gaze back up into the peep hole, “You ain’t got a say in anything right now.” You can feel his body tense a bit just as you’re about to say something. His eyes are directed towards the peep hole, but it’s clear that he’s not directly looking at anything.

 

 _“Where the fuck are you?!”_ Andrew barks outside.

 

“The fuck is that on your neck?” Erik demands, tilting your head up a bit. You grab his wrist, but not fast enough before he’s able to see. The harsh discoloration that rings your neck like a choker – a fitting necklace to reference for the situation. As if Erik was not already a particularly hard man, his eyes become cold and harsh, but not at you. He was always quite rough with you as far as joking and nights like these, but you had never seen him look so vicious before. Actually, the more you look, the more you identify it. But it’s rare, and unwelcome.

 

“Erik…” You warn.

 

“Like I said,” he affirms darkly, “You ain’t got a say right now.”

He begins undoing the locks of the doors, removing the pointless chain at the top. You grab his arm, allow yourself to remark at the firmness of it, and then softly pull him towards you, “Erik, come on. Don’t – look, I’ll just go, alright? Not trying to start anything and I don’t want you to get hurt. That motherfucker fights dirty when he’s smashed. Just let me stay for tonight until he cools down.”

 

“What the fuck is that changin’?” He rumbles at you, letting you hold onto his arm but looking at you in frustration and anger. Those two things seemed to make up a lot of what Erik did. While he usually kept to himself and his amazingly small circle of friends, his presence was one known that you shouldn’t fuck around with. He was calm, but somehow just as volatile as someone like Andrew. Except when he popped off, it fucking scared anyone watching. As conceited as it may sound, you knew that when it came to you and your situation, he had very little patience seeing you curled up on his couch, waiting for your ain’t shit “boyfriend” to sober up and come apologizing while simultaneously glaring at Erik for harboring you like a good friend.

 

You run your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look down at you, Andrew’s incoherent shouting an ambient sound to the both of you, “Please don’t do this.” You can tell he wants to jerk his face away but are surprised when he doesn’t, hoping that something you’re say or maybe even the touching contact is getting through to him. He has the forearm of the hand holding his other arm, relenting his grip a bit. That anger is still there, but you can see him acquiescing simply because it was you.

 

“The hell are you still with that nigga for...?” He grunts, eyes intense on you.

 

“You know damn well I don’t have anywhere to go.”

 

“You even bother asking me?”

 

You pause, conflicted. Stay with Erik? There was no point trying to deny that you were attracted to your neighbor, but the thought of being in the same area as him all the time? It was a bit overwhelming. But it was also something you had never even bothered to think about. Honestly, there was something in the back of your mind that might’ve considered it but concluded prematurely that Erik would deny you.

 

Why the hell had you ever thought that?

 

You open your mouth to speak but jump back in instinct when you feel the vibrations of the pounding against the door. You immediately rub your neck at the thought of Andrew pinning you down earlier. This redirects Erik’s anger and Andrew does nothing to aid his fate when he yells aloud.

 

“You got that bitch in there, Stevens?! Huh? Ole’ punk ass – bring her out here!” You glance up at Erik who cocks an eyebrow at you, “You ain’t ask me.”

 

You pause, “Can I stay here?”

 

“Live.”

 

You frown a bit at his correction, “Nigga…Can I _live_ here? Just for a bit and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

 

He almost seems amused at your impatience, fending off a smile given the situation, “I just needed the first part…” He assures you, turning back to the door, “Stay in the apartment. Don’t answer it unless I tell you it’s me.” You almost protest but find yourself sit on the chair located to your left, placed in front of a small desk. You hold yourself gently, watching as Erik undoes the door at last, keeping the door close so that no one can see inside, tightly closing it behind him.

 

You sit in the darkness, listening to the muffled conversation. You’re not really able to hear anything, and you feel too great a level of stress and mild fear to put your ear to the door and snoop. While you cannot catch onto the words, the volume and aggression becomes more striking – Erik initiating this shift in volume. You can hear the harsh base of his voice, impatient and defensive. You briefly hear him bark out your name and all at once, there is the sound of tussling and stomping feet.

 

Your curiosity becomes a bad influence and you run up to the door, hands against the door as you peek desperately into he peep hole.

 

While they are partly moving out of your sight, you can see Erik has his fists up, seeming to wait for Andrew to recover who holds his mouth, looking away. He looks back, moving towards Erik. He ducks down and tries to tackle him, with no respectable tact. Erik cups his hands into fists, slamming it down against the man’s back. Andrew tries to look up but his head is held down by Erik, who uses his face aimed down to slam his knee up, using the same leg to kick him back. There isn’t much skill to what Erik does, but you can see that with the right training, he could be a lethal opponent to fight, more so than he already was.

 

Andrew staggers back and out of your line of vision. Like some daunting horror movie, Erik walks out of your line of vision towards him, the only thing you can see now being the narrow hallway. You can hear faint sounds of a fight, but if you had been in this neighborhood long enough, it seemed like only one person was making any decent hits. Unable to see anything, you fall back, sitting on the couch. You curl your legs up under you, leaning your head against the back of the furniture and waiting.

 

It’s about five minutes later before you hear a knock, saying your name. You jump up, unlocking the door for the final time of the night, coming face to face with Erik. He doesn’t look like he’s been in any kind of fight despite obviously having been, and when you try to lean forward to see Andrew, he presses forward, disallowing this, “We’ll move your stuff out of there tomorrow.”

 

All you can do is nod, stepping back and closing the door once he comes back in, “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

 

“You act like if I did, someone would actually show up to arrest me,” he scoffs, walking past you, lightly massaging his knuckles with his left hand. While it’s a verification that Erik did not actually kill, it’s still a bit scary to think of what he might have actually done to Andrew. Neither man had ever really been discreet about hating the other – and that wasn’t just centric of you. They were simply different people and if they ever actually spoke beyond passive aggressive words or threatening while passing one another, you were fairly certain they would clash each time. Making as you usually did, you relieved a blanket from one of his cabinets, choosing the heavy, quilted one that you used each time you came over.

 

“Nah,” You look up when you hear this. Erik nods toward the closed off area of his room, “Come on.”

 

You furrow your brows, “I’m thankful but I’m not sleeping with you to return the favor.”

 

“Do I look like _him?_ ” he challenges, gesturing towards the door, “Damn. Just come on. Act like you haven’t been in here before.”

 

You drag your feet but comply, dropping off the blanket on the back of the couch before slipping past his frame in the doorway, ducking under his arm and slipping in. It’s cozy, but not too small. The bed is king sized, no surprise there, and undone. He keep the bedroom door open and walks to the right side, sliding in. It’s strange and somewhat abrupt – the entire situation, but you concede. Erik was rough, but you knew he wouldn’t do anything so disgusting as try to force himself on you.

 

You had slept in the bed with him twice before, and it had been oddly comforting, but so strange and unsettling for you to be in the bed with a man you felt safe with that you restricted yourself to the couch beyond those times. You sit down, throwing your legs onto the bed, pulling the covers up a bit onto you.

 

Erik, looking on his phone, looks at you, “I’m not gonna be cold, girl. It’s been a long night, but this is still my bed.”

 

“Chivalry is dead,” you joke, turning away.

 

He shifts off his back and you can tell he’s turned towards you. You can hear the amusement in his voice, “Did you really just say that shit? Chivalry is dead? Really?”

 

“Man, you don’t care about me…” You are lightly laughing when you say this, keeping your back to him for your lack of control in amusement.

 

He scoffs amidst laughter of disbelief, “Wow! Now I know you buggin’.”

 

You finally let yourself laugh a bit, proud that you were one of perhaps a few people who could actually make Erik laugh sometimes. You do relent a few of the covers, allowing him a bit more but making sure you are covered, your nightgown seeming desperate to ride up your hips more, trying to make things awkward or go down like some bad porno. You ass already lightly brushed his thigh and you were surprised, honestly, that he hadn't said anything about that. Erik shifts back onto his back, one arm resting over his forehead while he used his phone, both of you sitting comfortably in the silence of what was now coming up to midnight. You couldn't sleep much and from what you could tell, Erik wasn't even a little drowsy.

 

"Thank you. Seriously," You say after a moment, "Sorry it took me this long to just listen to you." 

 

"It's nothing," he blows off, "It's done now. Can't change the past." 

 

"Still, I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't met you. Hadn't stayed here all those times. Shit, man. I think we both know the answer to that but still, thanks. Not a lot of reliable people in this building." You turn over, looking at him. He glances at you before looking back at his phone, "I said don't trip. It's done." You nod gently, holding the blanket up to your neck, "Alright. Fine." You keep looking at him, noticing that he seems a bit distracted. He keeps his phone above his head but looks at you now. You pause and  _swear_ that Erik might actually make a move, damn near hoping he would. He turns his head a bit to look at you a moment before scoffiing lightly, looking back up to his phone, "Damn, you want me." 

 

"I hate you." Is the last thing you say before turning back around, biting back a smile as you hear Erik snickering behind you.

 

Asshole.


End file.
